


Something Good

by Lady_of_the_Refrigerator



Category: The Nanny
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:44:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_the_Refrigerator/pseuds/Lady_of_the_Refrigerator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck, a sensation that usually meant one of two things: a) she was being watched, or b) someone managed to slip itching powder down the collar of her jacket again. Either possibility pointed to the same man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TanyaReed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanyaReed/gifts).



C.C. leaned back against the corner of Maxwell’s desk and sighed. The view outside the office doors was like something out of a painting or a greeting card, big fluffy flakes of snow drifting slowly against a backdrop of the warm glow of New York City lights. It was charming. Picturesque. Romantic. Absolutely fitting for the evening she had planned. She even hung mistletoe above the double doors in hopes of drawing Max away from his desk to admire the view. Amongst other things.  
  
It was all for naught once Nanny Fine had gone and roped Max into attending some shindig or other at the last minute under the guise of family and togetherness. C.C. shuddered at the thought of spending another holiday surrounded by every Fine in the five boroughs and beyond, with nothing but questionable Kosher delicacies and far too little alcohol to dull the pain. She wouldn’t have been caught dead at that party. Even if she had been invited.    
  
Instead of a night spent wooing her partner, all she had tonight to keep her company was a tumbler of scotch and the backing track to _The Sound of Music_. (This Christmas had brought on an absurd attack of nostalgia for Max and he had his heart set on staging a revival of the first show he ever produced, Lord knows why.)  
  
When the first strains of _Something Good_ came from the CD player, she found herself singing along quietly, reminiscing about listening to her copy of _The Sound of Music_ as a child alone in her room as she dreamt of meeting her very own Captain von Trapp, a dashing widower with too many children for his own good. After Sarah’s death, and after the upheaval that came along with it started to settle, she wondered if maybe she would find that man in Maxwell. It was a hope she still held onto, but every day Nanny Fine spent under the same roof as Max brought her that much closer to accepting it wasn’t meant to be. She was always the Baroness, never the bride.  
  
(She supposed her wealth and breeding put her on the same level as Baroness Schraeder, but once, just once, she wished she could be the Fräulein Maria of her own life.)  
  
She was shaken from her musings when she felt a sudden prickling at the back of her neck, a sensation that usually meant one of two things: a) she was being watched, or b) someone managed to slip itching powder down the collar of her jacket again. Either possibility pointed to the same man. She tensed and turned around slowly. Just as she suspected, Niles stood leaning against the doorjamb, watching her.  
  
She hit pause on the CD player and braced herself for an insult, but an insult never came. Niles just stood there with his arms crossed over his chest and a curious look on his face, one she had never seen on him, least of all directed at her. She hesitated to name it, but it wasn’t unpleasant.  
  
She didn’t know what to make of his silence, either. He usually never missed an opportunity to attack her, especially when handed such prime ammunition as walking in on her singing a pitiful, lonely solo version of a song meant to be a romantic duet.  
  
He regarded her silently for a while longer, long enough for her to start to feel self-conscious, but finally— _finally_ —he spoke.  
  
“Did you ever dream of performing on Broadway when you were a girl?” he asked, his voice low, gentle. His word choice was rife with opportunity for innuendo and insinuation, but she felt for once in his life he only meant what he’d said at face value. “Or were you only interested in producing?”  
  
She hesitated a moment, deciding how to answer without giving too much away. “Mummy never would have approved.” There. He could take it as an admission if he wanted, but she’d never confirm it outright.  
  
“That’s a shame,” he said, a wistful edge to his voice.  
  
Suddenly, the music started playing again, startling her. Niles smirked and held up a small remote control. He walked over to the desk and set it down, holding her gaze all the while. He took a step towards her and another; she backed up reflexively. He started to sing softly, picking up the Captain’s verse, “ _For here you are, standing there, loving me. Whether or not you should._ ”  
  
Her vocal cords had a mind of their own tonight, as she soon found herself singing along with him. She would have heard his smile in his voice even if she hadn’t seen it. She couldn’t help returning it; his singing voice always made her smile in spite of herself.    
  
The song came to an end just as she felt her back come in contact with the office doors, the cold glass sending a jolt through her. In a flash, she remembered the mistletoe and looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of it before his lips touched hers. He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers.  
  
“Happy Christmas, Miss Babcock.”


End file.
